


Jacket + GTO

by impossiblepluto



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Parental Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28655238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto
Summary: After a near-miss, Mac visits the cemetery to say some things he should have said a long time ago. Not a death story.
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 64





	Jacket + GTO

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends,  
> Wrote like 99% of this back in May. Got stuck. Never finished. But I need to get it out just in case next week goes the way we think it will. It's probably significantly schmoopier than it needs to be but hey, my characters now.  
> Thanks for reading!

The ground is spongy from the thunderstorm that hit hard last night. The rain was heavy enough that it nearly diverted their ex-fil flight. Turbulence tossed the jet, shaking the already stirred occupants who longed for home. Mac white-knuckle gripped the armrest of his seat, trying to ignore the raging storm that drowned out the voices of his friends. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled through the night, torrential rain pounded them as they disembarked. 

It’s quiet now. Peaceful here. 

His thoughts are more in tune with the storm. His fingers tap, restless against his leg. 

Each step leaves a deep footprint in the carefully manicured lawn. Raindrops resting on blades of grass shimmer in the dawn sunlight cresting the horizon. 

His gait is slow, measured. His world always feels just a few degrees off its axis when he comes here. He wishes he could feel the peace that Jack always found. Wishes he had Jack at his side right now. His way of making Mac relax. Pull him out of his head. 

Jack was always better at this. Unaffected by the solemn location, he made each visit a celebration rather than the morose trek it feels like to Mac. A joke and a story to counter Mac’s somber mood. 

Steam wafts from the ground, curling between headstones. 

Mac doesn’t do graveside visits. Never understood the purpose. After watching them lower his mother into the ground it was almost two decades before he returned to Mission City’s Graceview Cemetery. James never brought him after the funeral. Scolded him for talking, for asking questions. For crying. Refused to speak of her at home. Her things disappeared from the house.

In Mac’s world, death didn’t just mean loss and separation, it was a total erasure. An unhealthy way to cope at best, and absolutely crippling at worst. And no example for a five-year-old child to follow as he tried to process grief he was denied from showing. 

Mac only relented after Jack’s prompting, he wanted the chance to meet Mrs. MacGyver and tell her how proud she should be of her son. How proud he was. He brought her flowers and spoke to her for what felt like hours while Mac watched with an ache of longing. Jack was always able to voice exactly what he was feeling. Say the words of affirmation that Mac yearned to hear, but was unable to return.

“Sorry for hoggin’ the conversation, hoss,” Jack said, looking up from his seat on the ground to Mac who shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I suppose you’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

But Mac shook his head, a lump in his throat. Unsure of what to say to the woman who gave him life but he could barely remember. Whose face was only clear to him because he was familiar with photographs, not because he could pluck it from a childhood memory. 

He picks his way down the aisle, avoiding downed tree branches and righting the wreaths of red, white, and blue that were tossed by the storm, grateful for the distraction. Slowing down his trek to his destination.

Visiting Harry was easier. Maybe it’s because Mac was older when he’d lost him. Had lived a life and had a better handle on processing his grief. Maybe it’s because Bozer and Jack stood by his side when Mac buried him and encouraged his tears. 

Maybe that he had Jack as an example, and the chance to watch him interact with his pop’s headstone. 

Or that Jack drove him to the cemetery, insisting on bringing flowers or a flag every Memorial Day, or as near to the day as they could get. They showed up for birthdays, and holidays, and near-miss missions. 

“You gotta go after a near-miss, hoss. Cause maybe they were watching out for ya. Gotta let ‘em know you’re okay.”

Mac smiles. He never quite understood that, but it was very Jack. 

Mac thinks he probably should have stopped at Harry’s first, now that he takes the time to consider it. He’s not sure he’ll have the strength to make another graveside visit today. Not alone. 

Jack would tell him that he should have gone to Harry first, but, well, if Jack wants to have an opinion on Mac’s actions then he should be here. 

Making it to his destination, Mac stops in front of the headstone. He takes a deep breath and crouches down. Reaching out with his left hand and laying it against the smooth stone, fingers tracing the inscription that he’s read a dozen times. 

It makes his heart ache. It’s not about him today, it’s about respect, honor, and duty. 

“Hey, it’s me. It’s Mac,” he clears his throat, unsure of what to say. Some days it’s easier, and then others…

Jack always said to speak from his heart, but Mac’s never been good at that, with the living or the dead. The vulnerability of expressing how he feels when most of the time he’s not sure if he knows himself. 

He licks his lips and continues. 

“It’s been a while, I know. I’m sorry about that.” He shakes his head. Is there a concept of time for those who have passed on? He hates to think that his mom knew how long it was before he went to her grave. 

Would hate to think that he’s been here waiting. Worrying.

Can they even hear him? Do they know that he’s there? Jack always swore that they could, but Mac’s had his doubts. And doesn’t know what he wants to believe. Doesn’t know if it makes a loss easier or harder to bear. 

“I - I almost thought I wouldn’t make it here this time.” He shrugs his shoulders and the right one vehemently protests. Mac hisses as pain erupts. His left hand grips the aching joint, biting his lip and breathing through the pain.

“I’m okay,” he immediately offers reassurance. The empty arm of the black leather jacket flaps. He pushes aside the unzipped front, revealing the brace, strapping his arm tightly against his chest, restricting his movement. “Don’t worry, it is actually worse than it looks.” 

A small smile crosses his lips and he can almost see the exasperated disbelief crossing Jack’s face at the words. “Dislocated. Nothing broken but it’s uh - popping out more often than it used to. Pops back in more easily too though, so that’s something. I guess.” 

He remembers Jack’s complaints about creaking joints and how much longer bruises seemed to take to heal and that one day Mac would regret all his teasing about Jack being an old man. “Guess it’s all finally catching up with me. I don’t think this would have happened a couple of years ago.” 

Mac brushes a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He’s wearing it longer again now. Longer than it’s been since before he enlisted. Where has all this time gone and how has he found himself here?

“Guess I never really thought I’d live long enough for it to catch up with me. There were a lot of days I never thought I’d make thirty.” 

Mac takes a deep breath. “There were a lot of days I never thought I’d make it out of the sandbox. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for…”

A lump lodges in Mac’s throat and he swallows it down. “Anyway, we made it home late last night. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, classified and all, but I know you can keep a secret.” 

“It shouldn’t have been a bad one, but you know how these missions go sometimes. I guess when you stack it up against Cairo or Lake Como or that time on the barge off the coast of Japan it wasn’t that bad. And I don’t want you to worry about it, we all made it home.” 

“As long as we’re together, we always do. I think this just feels worse cause we all had to spend the night in Medical,” Mac shakes his head, biting his lip, and his face curling up when he realizes he accidentally let the words slip out. “No, don’t worry, we’re fine. Really. All of us. Just a precaution.” 

The wind tussles his long hair, like a familiar hand and Mac smiles. 

It had been a precaution. One he balked against, the mandate from Matty, proceed directly to Phoenix Medical when they landed. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. 

Mac argued and rolled his eyes at the order. His shoulder already back in place by that time and his concussion mild. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Mac lied through his teeth as the doctor manipulated his shoulder after looking at his x-rays, walking the joint through complete range of motion that made tears prickle in Mac’s eyes. 

He just wanted to go home, not submit to poking and prodding, not sit exposed on that paper-covered table in only a hospital gown while the doctor shined a bright light in his eyes. 

His only consolation was that his team was stuck there with him, with their own bumps and bruises, casts and concussions. He didn’t want them injured, felt responsible for that, but having them nearby helped to ease the post-mission nightmares that would have plagued him otherwise. Watching through a dream-haze as Desi got tossed by an explosion and instead of jumping up as the dust and debris cleared, laying there unmoving, or being unable to catch Riley as she tumbled off the roof, and having to watch in horror as she lay crumpled and broken on the ground. 

Mac shakes off the spiraling thoughts and pulls the lapels of the leather jacket closed, eyes falling on the stone again. “Do you recognize it? It’s yours.” 

“I’m not trying to change the subject.” He pauses. “Okay, maybe I am,” Mac sighs. “It’s a nice jacket. I felt a little weird about it at first, like I was taking something that didn’t belong to me. That I didn’t have any right to it.” He runs his fingers across the supple black leather, down the stitching. The touch soothing restless fingers and his buzzing mind. 

“I’ve been driving the GTO lately too. I’m being careful. I know what she meant to you. Making sure the oil is changed regularly. Keep her… spit and polished,” Mac smirks at the phrasing. “In case you don’t know, it’s GTO day. The day you had it towed home and started rebuilding it. Maybe when everyone gets released later we’ll take her on a drive up the coast. I promise any picnicking will be outside the car…”

Behind him, there’s a rustle that’s not the groundskeepers clearing up debris or the snap of the flags placed in formation. 

The uneven squelch of footsteps in the wet grass moves closer before a pair of crutches lean against the headstone. 

A hand ruffles through his hair, for real this time, and then a fist with a leather cuff clad wrist lightly bumps the top of the stone. 

Mac squints as he looks up, tongue caught between his teeth with a sheepish grin at getting caught. Not that he’s too surprised. 

“Nah, you go ahead and finish up there, hoss. Must have been something pretty important you had to say for you to go sneaking out of Medical at the crack of dawn.”

“I’m fine.” 

Jack’s tongue runs across his lips as he huffs at Mac’s words. “You’re a smart dude, Mac. Smartest guy I’ve ever met, but last I checked you still didn’t have an MD after your name. I might be a touch more reassured if someone who did told me that.”

“They only kept me for observation.”

“And I think part of that was supposed to be so the doc could check you out this morning, make sure you were still all in one piece and your scrambled brains had settled. Maybe talk more about having surgery on that bum shoulder so you don’t keep popping it outta joint every other mission.”

“It’s not that often.” 

“Yeah, that’s not the point.”

Mac stands slow, his legs full of pins and needles after being folded so long. He reaches for the stone for balance. 

“Don’t be rude on my account,” Jack says, reaching out, a steadying hand resting on Mac’s good shoulder, his eyes appraising, studying Mac's face for distress. “As long as you aren't gonna pass out on me, you can finish your conversation before we talk about how busted you are.”

"I'm not gonna pass out," Mac rolls his eyes, but refrains from shrugging out from Jack's touch. “He- I think he already knows what I wanted to say,” Mac presses his lips together, considering his words. “We kept each other company while you were gone.” 

“Yeah?” Jack’s eyes soften. “Thought you didn’t do stuff like that? Didn’t believe he could hear.”

“No, but you do. And I wasn’t there to watch your back, thought maybe he could do it for me.”

Jack pats the headstone again. “He was supposed to be watching your back for me. Asked him to do it almost ten years ago, now.” Jack smiles at Mac’s look of surprise. “Right around the time I gave you that jacket you’re wearing.”

Mac smooths self-conscious fingers across the leather again. Remembering the casual way Jack tossed him the jacket and told him to keep it. The gentle, teasing scolding about making sure he’s warm enough. That he’s eating enough. Jack was worried about him. Told him he’s family. Mac slid his arms through the sleeves bunching his fists deep into the pockets, trying to hide how much the words affected him. How much they meant to him. He didn’t know how to respond to them.

Still feels like he doesn’t.

“He’d get a kick out of seeing you wear it.” 

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. I told ya back then, he’d want you to have it. Be pleased that I passed it on to you.” 

Mac ducks his head with a bemused smile, while Jack chuckles and pulls him in closer, draping an arm across his shoulders, and hooking it around Mac’s neck.

“Thanks for looking out for him for me, pop. I know he’s a squirrelly one, but he’s a good kid. You’d be proud of him. I sure am,” Jack beams down at Mac. 

Mac feels a warm, pleased flush creep up his neck. Words of love and affirmation roll comfortably off Jack’s tongue. Freely. Without restriction and in abundance, as though it’s his life’s mission to make up for the years of Mac’s childhood in which they were lacking. Despite this, they don’t come easily for Mac. Not hearing them, though they’re a familiar chorus now. And definitely not speaking them. 

As though he can sense Mac’s disquiet, Jack grants a reprieve. “Alright, well, you go ahead and finish up, you can meet me and Riley at the car when you’re done.”

“Riley’s here?” 

“Some of us think twice before driving with a bum limb.” Jack gives him a playful shake

“Mine’s an arm, yours is a leg,” Mac falls into their comfortable banter. “Not that it’s stopped you before.”

“And besides, if Riley is with us, who are they going to get to track our cell phones?”

“That’s- that’s actually a good point.”

Jack taps his forehead. “You ain’t the only brains around here.” 

“I don’t think that,” Mac’s brow lowers in a frown.

“I know, I know,” Jack waves him off. 

Mac feels a coil of anxiety twist in his belly. He’s never- does Jack know- what if he thinks-

“Take your time.” Jack releases Mac with a pat and positions his crutches under his arms. “I predict it’ll be at least an hour before we get a tongue-lashing phone call. We’ll have already placed our breakfast orders at the diner by then. They can’t expect us to just waste food. Or to stay cooped up in the Phoenix on GTO day.” He turns to head back to the car.

Mac looks down at the stone. Rubbing his hand against the jacket again, he calls out, “Jack, wait!”

“Hoss?” Jack swings back around, a puzzled look on his face. Concern. Always ready to jump in and be what Mac needs. 

Mac is continually… astounded by the sacrifices Jack makes for him.

“I just -I wanted to say…” Mac bites his lip and takes a steadying breath. It shouldn’t be this difficult. Not with the years of real life examples he’s been given. “I’m not real good at this.”

“Mac…”

“I just wanted to say…” Mac turns to face the stone again, unable to meet Jack’s earnest eyes. “I’ve been coming here for months now and I keep saying that... he knows what I want to say but what if he doesn’t?”

“I’m sure he does. He’s real good at reading between the lines.”

“He deserves to hear it.” Mac keeps his gaze on the stone and takes a deep breath, steadying his nerves. "I wouldn’t be here, if it wasn’t for… for your son. You raised a good man. Took one look... well, okay, a couple of looks at this mouthy nineteen-year-old kid and treated me like I was his own. I don’t know if I was ever- I can’t remember ever being wanted like that.”

He hears Jack drawing closer again.

“He’s always been… vocal in letting me know.”

“You hear that pop? He’s sayin’ I got a big mouth.” Jack chuckles, deep and wet. 

Mac continues, ignores the teasing, “I’ve never told him. Never said how much he means to me.”

Jack's hand rests on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, Mac risks looking up at Jack. 

“I don’t need the words. I appreciate them. It means a lot, and I know they don’t come easy for you, but no matter what you think, you’ve always been real good at letting people know how much you care.” Jack shushes his protests. “It’s your own language, hoss. But it’s clear as day for anyone who’s willing to listen.” 

Mac allows Jack to pull him into a hug. “I’m real proud of you, kiddo. And I love you.”

“I love you too, Jack.” The words muffled by Jack’s shoulder, basking in the feeling of warmth and protection. 

Jack presses a kiss to Mac’s temple before he sniffs. He gives another squeeze before pulling away and ruffling Mac’s hair. He wipes his eyes. “Alright, pop, we’re gonna bounce. I gotta take the kids out for breakfast.” 

Mac scrubs at his own damp eyes as Jack passes him a crutch, electing instead to keep Mac close, looping one arm around Mac and using him for balance. 

Slowly, they retrace their steps up the solemn aisle of stone. 

"You know, Riley's probably gonna be annoyed with you." Jack warns, leaning against Mac. 

“For… breaking out? Or leaving her behind?”

"Nah, she’s surprisingly fine with your breakout. A little hurt, as we all were, about getting left behind, but got over it quickly once I offered the chance to team up and hunt you,” Jack shakes his head in amusement. “She's gonna be annoyed cause you activated the Jack-Dalton-I-love-my-kids-water-works.”

“Aren’t they always primed and ready to go?”

“Yeah, but they aren't so easy to turn off. I'm probably gonna get real sappy with her at the diner. With both of you. Say all kinds of stuff about how much I love ya. Brag on you both to the waitress. And I’m gonna blame you when that happens.”

Mac laughs, tucked safely away under Jack's arm. He  catches Riley's fond gaze on them as they near the car and returns her smile. "Somehow, I don't think she'll mind."


End file.
